I have a feeling that a whole lot of you are expecting me to write something about Valentine, about love and relationships, yen yen yen.
Today, we’ll be reading from a girl’s story. Today, you’ll be reading someone else’s story.
I met Segun the day I went with my friend, Stacy, for Karaoke. We had taken a table next to him and his friend.
After the person who was on stage left, Segun was called up next. He winked at me as he stood up to the cheers and my friend nudged me gently, clapping her hands.
All the while he sang, he made eye contact with me, he winked and smiled and even laughed. I had to check my dress to see if it revealed any part of my body. I tapped my friend.
She brushed my hand away. I persisted.
“Stacy, are you sure my dress is not too short?”
“Amy, why are we talking about your dress. This guy’s voice is not bad.”
He alighted from the stage and did a comic wave to the laughing voices. A girl ran up to him and hugged him. He did not hold her for as long as she wanted. When he disentangled, she looked slighted and had quickly glanced around to see if people noticed. I looked away.
Segun returned to the seat, took my hand and said above the din, “your eyes are erotic, I love them.”
I knew then that Segun did not love me.
I believed he might, perhaps, in time.
I met Segun again on a weekend. It was at a restaurant close to my house.
He did not keep his eyes steady on my face. He glanced at me and smiled, then he watched me from the waist down.
I knew then that Segun did not love me but I was willing to hope.
I took the chair opposite him and he sprang up, shaking his head. “You can’t sit there,” he said. “I need you to stay close to me.”
I got up and allowed him move my seat closer to him. He held my hands and rubbed it in his, then he reached out and held my face and kissed my cheek.
“You smell so nice,” Segun said. I smiled.
He asked me what I wanted to have and I told him I wanted water. He laughed hard, tears in his eyes and said, “sexy girls don’t drink water. Waiter, bring her small stout.”
I wanted to decline but I liked his face. I hoped it was genuine.
I insisted on a small stout. He had water. I asked him where he worked, what he did at work, if he was married, what he liked.
He asked me where I lived, if I lived alone, if I was a virgin, if he could visit, if I would prefer to come to his house instead.
I knew then that he did not love me but I prayed that he had a little fire burning for me.
He rubbed my laps and made comments about my body. He kept leaning to my breasts as if he was perceiving me, he asked me to peck him, and if I would be shy if he pecked me on the lips.
He said he didn’t have a girlfriend and that he’d like me to know his “humble abode”. I said I would the next time we met.
Segun never called me in between the days of the weekdays. He texted occasionally. I called him briefly during the weekdays while I waited for the weekend.
I knew then that he did not love me but I was not getting any younger.
He picked me up from the roundabout on Saturday. We got to his house. He ushered me to the bedroom, insisting that he would love to lie down while talking with me.
I asked him if he was planning to touch me and he laughed again, he said it was a naive question to ask. We got into the room and he removed his trouser. He said he loved to be naked under the duvet. I smiled.
Soon, he insisted I got into the bed with him, that the AC would get me cold, I refused.
He frowned. I told him we did not need to be in the bedroom. I got up and went to the sitting room. Minutes later he came out.
I knew immediately that he could not love me but I waited for him to speak, I waited for redemption.
He came to me and stood in front of me. I looked away. He yanked off his pant and stood baring his penis to my face. I jumped up, scared.
“What are you doing?” I yelled.
“What do you mean?” He asked. “Are you a kid? Suck me.”
The words bounced in and bounced out. I pushed him. “Get out from my face,” I yelled again, fearful. “I’ll see you next week, I’m going home.”
I clutched my bag and walked to the door. He pulled me back, his penis dangling. “I said suck me.”
I screamed. He laughed. He slapped me hard on the face and I tasted the blood in my mouth.
I remembered then that my father always said I had a single bone.
“Okay, Segun. Please don’t make it forceful, I’ll do it.”
“Show me your breasts,” he barked.
I unzipped my gown and unhooked my brassiere. He stared at my chest.
“Good. If not, na your body go tell you.”
I knelt down, held the penis in my hand, brought my face close and pulled it with all my might. I pulled and squeezed and pushed him. He fell blindly, screaming at the top of his lungs. I ran to the door, it was locked. I ran to the other door, the one I noticed was the kitchen and pulled the two knives from the shelf.
I ran back to the parlour where he staggered around and flung myself at him, stabbing and pulling out my weapons of self defense.
He kicked me and the pain spiralled through my veins. I rushed back at him. He was already too weak to fight me, the blood trickled out, thick liquid with a revolting stench, it flowed under the cushion.
I stood, staggering now, into his room. The key was there on the cupboard by the bedside. I ran back to the door, forcing my hands to steady and unlocked it, crying, hoping that he did not get up. I ran out into the compound and into the waiting arms of neighbors who were waiting to find out what the commotion was about.
I knew I would answer for this day and I was prepared for it.